For everything seemed resting on his nod, As they could read in all eyes. Now to them,Who were accustomed, as a sort of god, To see the sultan, rich in many a gem,Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad (That royal bird, whose tails a diadem,)With all the pomp of power, it was a doubtHow power could condescend to do without. ByronDon Juan. Canto VII. St. 74.